


Return to Me

by starlightwalking



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, F/M, Kiliel Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:06:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8193112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Tauriel cannot stay near Erebor after the awful Battle and all she lost there. As she travels west, she feels there is something wrong about her journey. Unbeknownst to her, Kíli still lives, but forces beyond their control have driven them apart. What can bring them together again before it is too late?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is (mostly) a Fix-It AU, but not entirely. I kept Thorin dead, and I changed how the end of BOTFA happened. That's not completely plot-relevant, but if you have any questions, feel free to ask!  
> I feel like there's a lot of room for exploration at the end of this, so perhaps I'll come back to this universe someday. There's certainly still a lot of development and future ahead of everyone, especially the characters besides Kíli and Tauriel.  
> Thank you for reading and commenting!

Kíli had passed from this world, and all of Tauriel's joy had passed with him.

She had seen him fall, at the feet of his uncle, the king, his brother beside him. She had been too late to save him, too slow and too weak. Bolg had run him through, and there was no possibility of survival from a wound that deep.

In her rage, Tauriel had taken down the pale orc's spawn. Bolg was a fearsome warrior, but he was no match for her fury and grief.

After the battle, she had wandered the fields and the streets of Dale, aiding the wounded and clearing the bodies—anything to keep her mind busy. Anything to distract herself from the pain she knew would soon crush down upon her.

Eventually, she received orders to stop and rest. Technically, she was no longer Thranduil's subject, so she need not obey his officials, but she knew the healer who gave the order was right: she needed rest. She obeyed.

The dwarves had taken Kíli's body to be among his own kin. As an elf, she doubted she could even attend the funeral. Word throughout the impromptu healing camp was that King Thorin had died and Fíli was to be crowned king. The news was so shocking that no one spoke tidings of the dead prince. Tauriel could not bring herself to ask.

In many ways, she was numb, the pain too great to comprehend. She found herself sitting against a crumbling wall, staring at her bloodstained hands, feeling nothing at all. She was empty.

She had thought this would hurt more. And it did hurt, but she did not feel like she was dying, or that her heart was broken. Her mind was clear. She understood what had happened, and while it hurt, she accepted the pain.

What was wrong with her? Shouldn't she feel as if the world had come to an end? Her whole long life in Mirkwood had been overturned in a matter of days. Tauriel saw no future for her in the forest anymore. She saw no future for herself at all. Kíli had shaken her world and shown her new skies and new wonders, but now he was gone, and the fleeting hopes she had harbored for a future with him had vanished.

With Kíli there had been endless possibilities and promises she had known neither of them could keep. Perhaps that was why his death had not broken her: she had known, deep in her heart, that it would end this way.

A single tear traced its way down her cheek. Her whole future was scattered among the sky, shattered in pieces, glittering like her beloved stars. What would her life be now? Once it had been clear; then the vision changed. Now it was gone entirely.

In her hand appeared Kíli's runestone. She didn't know how it had come to be there, but now she traced its engravings with a bloodstained thumb.

 _Return to me,_ it read, or so said Balin, the old dwarf who had caught her staring at it earlier that day. It was a promise, full of magic and love.

Tauriel wondered if the stone was enchanted by Kíli's mother. In giving her the charm, had its dwarven magic passed to her? She didn't know how dwarves worked spells, or if they did at all. Once, she would have asked Kíli, but she could not do that anymore.

Suddenly her mind cleared, and she knew what she would do.

In one swift movement, Tauriel rose to her feet. She drew one of her knives and gripped her long, flaming locks in one hand. She pressed the blade to her hair and cut.

In elven society, hair was a mark of beauty. Warriors tied it back in battle. Loved ones braided each other's hair. The greatest elven lords of old were said to have hair so grand and long and beautiful that they carried "fin"—meaning hair—in their names.

To cut one's hair was a radical act. Some did it in rebellion, other as a mark of shame or punishment. Tauriel cropped hers in mourning.

She had been blessed with auburn locks, a rarity among the dark-haired Silvan people. She knew others regarded her as beautiful, and she thought she was not unhomely, though it it had never been a strong concern of hers.

Other elves would balk at her decision, but she didn't care. She had lost many things today: her innocence, her hope, her future. Kíli. She would mourn them appropriately.

As strands of her hair drifted to the earth, she felt much lighter. Her path was uncertain, but it was open. The process had been painful, and she wished bitterly that it had turned out some other, happier way, but she was free.

Tauriel took a deep breath, shaking out her hair. It was now cropped just above her shoulders, uneven and harsh.

She stared at the fallen strands of her hair for a few moments more, then stepped away and walked toward the setting sun.

* * *

His eyes were too heavy to open. He heard voices murmuring around him—familiar, but strange.

He felt a numbness his heart, and pain tingling throughout his body. His breathing was slow and even, but he could scarcely believe he was still breathing.

Surely this was a dream. But he had just been dreaming: of a red-haired elf lass running, running, running away from him. He had cried her name, begging her to come back, but she had not so much as turned around.

He felt different now. In his dream he had been whole and strong, but he felt the ache of his wounds now.

The last thing he remembered was a great pale orc bearing down upon him. Anger flashed through him: Bolg had done this to him. And Fíli—was his brother dead or alive? What about Thorin? Was _he_ even alive, or was this the afterlife?

With a great effort, Kíli opened his eyes.

Around him were several concerned faces; blurry at first, but growing in distinction as his aching head managed to focus on them. There was Bofur, and Balin, and—his heart leaped in relief and joy—his brother, Fíli!

He stared at them for a few moments, before breaking into painful, splitting grin. His face felt lopsided as he smiled, but he didn't care. For a moment, the pain was gone, and all that he felt was love.

"Kíli!" Fíli cried out, kneeling beside his bedside.

"Fíli!" he tried to say, but it came out only as a rasp. He cleared his throat and attempted to sit up, but Fíli firmly pushed him back into a lying position.

"The healers said you shouldn't move as soon as you get up," he explained.

"I—what happened?" Kíli asked in a slightly clearer voice, though his voice still ached from disuse. How long had he been unconscious?

"We thought you were dead, lad," Bofur said, his voice wobbly. Kíli looked up at him and saw with shock that his eyes were watering. Balin, too, was emotional.

"We've been so worried," Balin said. "The others are waiting anxiously outside."

"I don't remember much," Kíli admitted. "Azog—and Bolg. Are they dead? Are we safe?"

"Aye, they're dead," Bofur confirmed. "Bolg was slain by the elves—turns out they're not useless after all. As for Azog—" He broke off and bowed his face, seemingly unable to continue.

Kíli frowned. "What happened with Azog?"

"Kíli..." Fíli sighed. "Bolg ran you through. By all rights, you shouldn't be alive. I don't know what trick of fate, what miracle has kept you here, but I'm eternally grateful for it." He reached out and grasped Kíli's hand, squeezing it tightly. "But...we weren't all so lucky."

Kíli's stomach dropped. "By Mahal... Fíli, who died?" His eyes widened. "It wasn't—Ori? Or, no—Bifur? Was it _Tauriel_?" For the first time since he regained consciousness, he remembered Tauriel: his beautiful, incredible elven love. Where was she? Was she safe? Why wasn't she here, by his side?

"After you—fell," Fíli said softly, "Bolg was distracted. It was—Tauriel who killed him. In revenge for killing you, she thought. I don't know what happened to her after that. But Thorin and I, we faced off against Azog." He bowed his head, and Kíli realized the worst.

"Thorin didn't make it, Kíli," Balin explained, his voice breaking.

Kíli stared up at his brother in shock. Thorin? Dead? The very thought was impossible. Thorin had led them here to Erebor, beyond all belief, beyond all hope, beyond everything. He had done it for his people, for his home, for his family. He had suffered so much. To have paid the final price for reclaiming Erebor...Kíli closed his eyes, swallowing hard. It wasn't fair. No matter what Thorin had done under the dragon sickness, he didn't deserve this.

"He can't be," Kíli whispered.

"He fought hard—we both did," Fíli said, trying to explain the unexplainable. "But Azog killed him. Thorin made his mark in him, though. I finished Azog off. I never would have been able to do it without..." He trailed off, his grief overcoming him.

"He's the only one of the company who died," Bofur said. "The rest of us are all safe."

"He didn't deserve it," Kíli said quietly, bitterness in his voice.

"Of course he didn't," Balin said, "but he died. Fíli is King Under the Mountain now."

Kíli stared at his brother in shock.

"I mean, not _yet_ ," Fíli said hastily. "I haven't been crowned or anything. It's only been two days since the battle. But...I will be."

"Your Majesty," Kíli said. He inclined his head, wishing he could bow to the king.

"I'm your brother," Fíli protested.

Kíli smiled half-heartedly. "That was a joke. Not a funny one, I guess."

Fíli smiled faintly. "Not really."

"So—everyone else is safe?" Kíli said, feeling immensely relieved. The loss of his uncle hurt his heart, but he was beyond grateful that no one else had died.

"Well, Bifur's axe came out of his head at last," Bofur said. "We're not quite sure what kind of repercussions that's going to have, but I think he can talk again."

"That's good," Kíli said, nodding. He tried to sit up again, but grimaced and fell back down. "I guess I'm the most injured, then."

"We thought you'd died," Fíli said. He bowed his head. "I didn't know—I thought I'd lost you. How could I be king if both you _and_ Thorin had perished?"

"But I'm alive," Kíli said, "and as soon as I'm back on my feet, I'll help you restore Erebor. You know I will."

Fíli smiled. "Thanks, Kí." He sighed. "I've sent Mother a raven with the news. Our people will soon return to their home, and we can see her again."

"That's good." Kíli smiled. "I can keep my promise to her, even if—even if Thorin couldn't." He put his hand into his pocket, expecting to feel the runestone his mother had given him, but with a start, he realized his pocket was empty. Of course—he had given it to Tauriel on the lakeshore.

Tauriel!

Kíli gasped suddenly, his eyes widening. "Where's Tauriel?" he exclaimed. "Fíli, tell me she's not dead!"

He suddenly remembered seeing her right before Bolg stabbed him, her eyes wide and hopeless, too far away to help him. He that thought she was so very beautiful even in her distress, and he had been glad she was the last thing he would see was her face. Only, now he wasn't dead, and there was still hope for them.

Fíli blinked. "I—well, I don't know where she is."

"The elf lass?" Balin asked, raising an eyebrow. "I saw her wandering about the camp, helping. That was a couple of days ago, though. I think she left with the other elves, or maybe even before."

"Then does she—she thinks I'm dead!" Kíli exclaimed. He put his face in his hands. "Fíli...I..."

"She's gone, Kíli," he said gently. "I'm sorry. I...it probably wouldn't have worked out anyway."

Suddenly boiling with anger, Kíli closed his eyes. In his still-injured state, he couldn't do anything more aggressive to show his frustration. "Thanks." He spoke stiffly, not meaning it.

"Kíli—" Fíli began, but he stopped. "I am sorry."

Kíli refused to answer.

"Come on, lad," Bofur said. "It's best to just leave him alone for now."

The three other dwarves left the tent, allowing Kíli to be alone with his misery.

How could this have happened? he wondered miserably. That they were both living, and yet further apart than they had ever been. Tauriel thought he was dead—and yet he lived! Where had she gone? How could he find her, especially since he could barely move?

And Thorin... Grief crashed over Kíli like a wave. How could Thorin have died? He had worked so hard to return to his home, only to be killed. And where was Bilbo? Had he stayed after Thorin's death, or had he gone? They had become quite close, and the pain of losing Thorin might have driven the halfling away like Tauriel had been driven away.

He sobbed quietly to himself for a few minutes, overcome by grief and pain. Then he steeled himself. This was his life now. Thorin was dead. Fíli was King. And Tauriel was gone.

He couldn't change his uncle's death, but Kíli resolved himself in that moment that he could bring Tauriel back. She missed him as much as he missed her—he knew she did. As soon as he was healed and Fíli's position as king was secure, he would leave Erebor, and he would find her.

" _Amrâlimê_ ," he murmured again, and he knew in his heart that this was not the end.

* * *

Tauriel passed through her forest quietly, not wishing to draw attention to herself. She had spoken with Thranduil after the battle, and he had declared her un-banished, but she did not wish to return home. The forest was simply the quickest route to the Misty Mountains.

At first, she had traveled blindly, with no purpose in mind, but she had settled on a destination and now made haste to travel to Ered Luin, where Kíli's mother lived. Elves would most likely not be welcome there, but she had to return the runestone to its rightful owner.

The journey took several days. She neither ate nor rested the entire time, too conscious of the whispering voices of the leaves, begging her to come back home. But she refused: she had a task, and this was not her home any longer.

She feared the trees would tell her kin of her presence in the forest, but her journey was unhindered. As at last she passed the last, lonesome tree at the western end of the forest, she breathed easily.

"Tauriel."

She whirled around, drawing her knives, ready to attack. But no enemy stood before her: it was Legolas, her old friend.

Slowly, she sheathed her blades. "Legolas," she said stiffly. Her hair danced in the breeze, brushing her cheeks. She shivered, still unused to her new haircut.

He stared at her, eyes wide. "You...your hair."

She bowed her head. "It is a mark of grief."

"I see." He sighed. "I do not wish to see you so unhappy."

"It is no fault of yours," she told him. "I made my choices. You made yours. Not even your father is to blame for what has befallen me." She said this with only a tinge of bitterness. She did not harbor any more resentment to Thranduil: all that had passed with Kíli. The world was a cold and unforgiving place, but she would make it less harsh if she could. Still, forgiveness did not erase her pain, only ease it a little. Anger would do nothing now.

"I am sorry," Legolas said. "I cannot say I understand your loss, but I honor your dwarf's memory, and yours."

"Mine?" Tauriel asked. "I am still here, living."

"But you have passed from me," he explained. "I can see that our paths may cross no longer. And I miss your friendship already. I have not come to beg you to return. I will not even return; not yet. The world is wide, and this war has opened my eyes. I must see it for myself, before I go back to my father."

"You have always been wise," Tauriel said fondly, the ghost of a smile gracing her lips. "You continue to be so."

"And you have always been so clever," Legolas said, smiling in turn. "I wish you luck on your journey, wherever it may lead."

"And I, yours," she echoed. "I go to Ered Luin, where I must return a gift to Kíli's mother."

"I seek the Dúnedain, by the advice of my father," Legolas said.

"If our paths cross again, I will be glad of it," Tauriel said, extending a hand.

Legolas grasped it. "As will I."

* * *

"I can't just let you run off into the wild," Fíli insisted, spreading his arms in frustration. "You're a prince, Kíli! My heir, by all the laws! We're not exactly lousy with heirs of Durin—what if something happened to you?"

"Oh, you've got Dáin and his son," Kíli said dismissively. He crossed his arms. "Face it, Fíli, you just don't want Tauriel back in Erebor."

"That's not—" Fíli swore, slamming his hand on his desk. "Kíli, stop being so stubborn! Sometimes you've got to do things that are for the good of the people, not just your own good!"

"I've been healed for weeks now, Fíli!" Kíli shouted. "Weeks! And _all_ this time, Tauriel thinks I'm dead!" His voice broke. "I can't live like this, Fíli! I need her."

Fíli bit his tongue. " _Need_ her? No. You just _want_ her, and there's a difference." He sighed, closing his eyes. "You know, I'd kind of hoped this whole infatuation would die down after the battle, and you'd come to your senses. Even if you did find her, it's not as if you could marry her! Think of the children you'd have—we couldn't have _elves_ on the throne of Erebor!"

Stung by his brother's words, Kíli flinched backward. "You don't care about her at all," he realized.

"I'm grateful she saved your life back in Lake-town," Fíli said, trying to get his voice under control. "But she was an ally in war, not a suitable wife for a prince. Or a dwarf. She's an _elf_ , Kíli. An elf!"

"I _love_ her," Kíli said, deeply hurt. "And I love you, too. If you were gone off, thinking I was dead, I'd want to go after you, too!"

"I'm your brother, it's different," Fíli said. "And I'm your king. I _order_ you—"

"I don't _care_!" Kíli shouted. He turned away. "Fine! I'll leave Erebor, forever! I'm _not_ letting her go, not when we both still live!"

There was a terrible silence. Kíli stood in the doorway of the king's chambers. He meant every word: no matter how much he loved his brother and his people, he would not stand by and let Tauriel suffer—nor would he suffer himself to be so close to having her, and let her slip through his fingers.

"You really mean it," Fíli said quietly.

"I do." Kíli's voice did not tremble, though he felt his body shake.

"Then I suppose I must let you go." Fíli sighed.

Kíli turned. "What do you mean?"

Fíli shook his head. "I cannot bear to see you in such pain. I do not understand it—I had hoped it would pass. But it has not, and I will not stand to lose you over something as trivial as a journey west...or even something as serious as chasing an elf."

Kíli's anger crumbled away, and he rushed into his brother's arm. "Thank you," he murmured as they embraced, his face buried in Fíli's golden hair.

Fíli hugged him fiercely. "I hope you find her in the west, before it is too late."

Kíli let go of his brother and stared in confusion. "Before it is too late?"

Fíli shrugged. "I've heard tales of the elves. They say that an elf can die of a broken heart."

Kíli's eyes widened. "No," he said. "She wouldn't. Not Tauriel. She's too strong for that, even thinking she's lost me."

"Or perhaps she would sail to the edge of the world and beyond, as the elves do," Fíli suggested. "They say those who do never return."

"Then I must leave immediately!" Kíli proclaimed. He rushed out the door, calling over his shoulder, "Thank you, Fíli! I promise I'll see you soon!"

"Wait!" Fíli called after him, but it was too late: Kíli would not wait even a second longer. Tauriel was waiting for him—or perhaps she was not, which drove him all the more.

* * *

Tauriel crossed the Misty Mountains and journeyed through Eriador. She walked purposefully, eager to relieve herself of her burden. The promise stone was an ache in her soul, an empty hole nothing could fill. It reminded her too much of Kíli, too much of all the future she had lost.

Perhaps if she returned the runestone to Dís, Kíli's mother, the ache would leave her, and she could seek new horizons. She could travel through the furthest reaches of Middle-earth, meeting new peoples and finding new purpose. The forest was no longer a home for her, that she knew, but she feared the aimless wandering she knew would come after she left Ered Luin.

She was in Eriador when she saw the dwarven caravan off in the distance. They were a peculiar sight: hundreds upon hundreds of them, traveling east, laden with supplies. This was no merchant caravan—there were too many of them, with too many belongings. This was an exodus, an entire population leaving one home to find another.

The moment she saw them, Tauriel knew exactly who they were. The dwarves of Erebor were finally returning home.

It seemed her journey would be cut short. She gathered all her strength and changed her course, directing her path instead to the caravan of dwarves.

They were reluctant to let her pass. Elves and dwarves had never been on good terms, and Tauriel realized that her love for Kíli may have never been precedented, nor ever repeated again. She doubted anyone would understand; even she understood only so much. This journey to meet Lady Dís was an act of closure for both Kíli's spirit and herself, and she was far beyond caring what other thought.

"I must see Lady Dís," she proclaimed to the dwarves who blocked her entrance into the caravan's ranks. She had approached the dwarves as they camped for the night, singing raucously and loudly, enjoying their dinner.

"And why should we trust you?" one dwarf asked her suspiciously.

"I bring news from Erebor," she explained.

"We _get_ news from Erebor," another dwarf said. "Why d'you think we're traveling there?"

"Please," she begged. "I have—a gift for her."

"A gift? More like a trap!" the first dwarf cried. "Never trust an elf, _I_ always say!"

"Let me through!" Tauriel said in exasperation. "I swear I will be peaceful. I will leave as quick as I came, only let me see Lady Dís!"

"Come on," the second dwarf said to the first. "We outnumber her a thousand to one. And Lady Dís can handle herself."

The first dwarf still look suspicious, but grudgingly, Tauriel was let through.

She found Lady Dís in a tent, alone. Tauriel bowed as she entered, murmuring greetings. "Lady Dís. It is an honor to meet you."

"I am sure." Dís's voice was cool, and far lower than Tauriel expected. "You are unlike any elf I have seen before. Where do you hail from, and what is your name?"

"I am from what you call Mirkwood," she said. "My name is Tauriel."

"Mirkwood?" Dís harrumphed. "If my brother still lived, he'd split your stomach open if he saw you."

"Well, he tried," Tauriel said.

Dís narrowed her eyes. "You met him?"

"I fought in the Battle of the Five Armies," she said. "I grew acquainted with several of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Your brother was not pleased."

"My son, King Fíli, did not mention you when he sent a raven to Ered Luin," Dís said.

Tauriel bowed her head. "I would not think he would. Fíli did not care much for me, either, and I left Erebor soon after the Battle."

"Why are you here, Tauriel of Mirkwood?" Dís asked. "I am not my brother, and I hold little resentment for your people. Did Thranduil send you?"

"I have parted from Thranduil and his realm," Tauriel said. "I came for myself. I bear a gift for you: something that was given to me, though I think perhaps it would have been better if it had not. Though I do not regret what happened, it brings me much pain to remember." She reached into her pocket and revealed the runestone to Dís. Having received a raven from Fíli, doubtless she already knew of Kíli's death, but the runestone was a powerful memory in and of itself.

"My son's runestone..." Dís breathed. She reached out and took it, caressing the marks with her fingers. Then she gazed back up to Tauriel, her gaze flinty. Her eyes were brown, so much like Kíli's. "How did you come by this?"

"Kíli gave it to me," Tauriel said. "Before—before his passing. Though Fíli held me in low regard, Kíli and I had...an affinity, of sorts." She bowed her head. "I am sorry for your loss, for it is mine also."

Dís stared between Tauriel and the stone, her gaze uncomprehending. "Your words confuse me, Tauriel of Mirkwood," she said. "The last I heard, Kíli was alive and well—though his letter gave no mention of _you_."

Tauriel stared at Dís incredulously. "A...alive?" she whispered. "He's _alive_?"

"Unless he has perished since he last wrote to me, yes," Lady Dís confirmed. "Your tale troubles me, for it carries truth with it—Kili would not give up this stone lightly. But why do you think he is dead?"

"I _saw_ him fall," she whispered, "run through by Bolg's sword..."

"He recovered," Dís said, "and he lives. His injury was grave, but he has overcome it."

The hole in Tauriel's soul was suddenly filled with inexplicable joy. "He lives!" she cried, tears springing to her eyes. "Kíli is alive!"

"I don't know what you feel for him, but no good will come of it," Dís warned, iron creeping into her voice.

Tauriel did not fear her, for all she was Kíli's mother. Her grief vanished in an instant, she nodded curtly to Dís, her smile fierce. "Thank you for your warning, but that is for Kíli and I to decide." She held out her hand. "May I have that stone back?"

Dís closed her fist over it. "What do you want with it?" she asked suspiciously.

Tauriel smiled. "To return it. When you gave it to Kíli, it was a promise for him to return to you. Well, he still lives, and you will see him soon enough. But I can travel faster than a caravan of dwarves, and I made him the same promise. I wish to return it to him."

Dís's face was impassive, but she held out the stone. "Do as you must. But I do not say I bless your union, if indeed it is one at all, and you are not mistaken."

Tauriel shoved the stone back into her pocket. She turned away, leaving the tent. She did not honor Dís's comment with a reply: she had a more worthwhile goal in mind.

"I'm coming to you, Kíli," she murmured as the moon rose. The stars twinkled above her, agreeing.

* * *

Despite Kíli's best efforts, no one seemed to know where Tauriel had gone. The best answer came from Bofur, who had apparently tried to keep an eye on her, but by all accounts, she had vanished by the end of the day after the Battle.

"Try the elves," Bofur advised. "They'd know better than us."

So thus Kíli had set out for Mirkwood. He had to drag himself every step of the way: for all it was Tauriel's home and the best chance he had of finding her, he hated that place. The trees seemed to close in around him, choking him, and he was not at all familiar with the ways of the forest.

When he arrived at the forest's edge, he stood for a full half hour, trying to convince himself this was really a good idea. Last time he'd gotten lost in Mirkwood, it had been only chance that he'd survived. If Tauriel and her patrol had never found them (and had Bilbo not cut them loose from the spiders' webs), he would have perished in the forest.

At last, Kíli took a deep breath and plunged into the darkness of the trees.

He felt like someone was watching him as he followed the trail, this time careful to stick to the path. He had plenty of supplies and little to tempt him to stray. He only wished that someone had accompanied him into the forest. He yearned to have Fíli by his side, but now that his brother was King of Erebor, there would be no chance of him following. Especially since he could barely stand to let Kíli search for Tauriel.

Alone in a hostile forest, Kíli found himself ruminating on his position. Tauriel was out there, somewhere. He could scarcely think of anything else: her hands, touching his; her eyes, hesitant and loving; her flaming red hair, like the fire moon he'd told her about. Her words were starlight, her promises the midnight sky.

His heart ached. He missed her so much, and all he wanted to do was to see her again, to hold her in his arms and kiss her.

But he knew it was not that simple. He first had to traverse this wild jungle and find the elves. With luck, they would not kill him, but he was afraid of what they might do to him. And even if he found Tauriel, and she was prepared to love him, what came next? Would Fíli accept their love? Would his mother? Would his friends? And what of Tauriel's friends and family—how _little_ he knew of them, of her. He wished nothing more than to know her, purely and deeply.

He traveled for three days before he saw any signs of another person in the forest. Then he was attacked.

Kíli's assailant was an elf, he was certain of it, but the figure moved so quickly he could scarcely tell who it was. Before he knew it, he lay on his back, pressed down by a heavy, forceful foot, a blade at his throat.

"What are you doing here?" a familiar voice growled.

Kíli gasped. It was Legolas, Tauriel's grumpy friend, Thranduil's son!

"Please!" he exclaimed. "Don't hurt me! I'm—I'm looking for Tauriel!"

Abruptly, the pressure on his chest disappeared. The blade was resheathed, and Kíli scrambled back to his feet.

Legolas stared at him, eyes wide. "You are dead," he murmured. "You are a ghost—have you come to haunt me? To mock me?"

"I'm not dead, I swear!" Kíli exclaimed. "I'm just as living as you are!"

"You are looking for _Tauriel_?" Legolas asked, incredulous.

"Why else would I be here?" Kíli said.

Legolas's gaze was troubled. "You changed her," he said. "I am not sure it was for the better."

"She changed me, too," Kíli said. "What do you want me to do about it? I can't undo the past."

Legolas shook his head. "No. You cannot." He sighed. "And she is miserable without you."

"Please, let me see her," Kíli begged.

"I cannot," Legolas said. "She is not here. She has gone west, in search of your mother."

"My... _mother_?" Kíli exclaimed.

Legolas nodded. "I almost left Mirkwood, as well, but...something told me to stay back, at least for a little while." His eyes narrowed. "I suppose I know why now."

Kíli bowed his head. "Thank you."

"I will accompany you to the edge of the forest," Legolas decided. "So you do not get yourself killed or harmed as you did last time you were here."

"Thank you," Kíli said again. He was overwhelmed by Legolas's generosity. "That's...really kind of you."

"I miss her, too," Legolas said. "And I wish to see her happy again. She will be overjoyed to see you." A shadow passed across his face. "But I will leave you after we are through the forest. Your reunion ought to be yours, and I have other places to be."

He turned and strode forward. "Come! The edge of the wood is this way!"

Still awed by Legolas's kindness, Kíli shook his head. Then he hurried after the blond elf prince, not wishing to be lost or left behind.

* * *

Tauriel flew through Eriador, traveling faster than she had known she could. Her heart was full to the bursting with the news that Kíli still survived. She felt giddy just thinking about him. Did he know she still lived? Why had he not written to his mother about her? Did he still love her, or had his brush with death shocked any feelings for her out of him? Why had he not come to find her after finding out she had left Erebor?

She could worry until her hair fell out, but her anxieties were fleeting. Kíli would have justified reasons for not chasing after her, and despite what Dís said, Tauriel knew he still loved her. Something deep down told her it was so, and she had no doubt that Kíli yearned for her as much as she yearned for him.

His rough hands, so gentle in her own; his soft, warm brown eyes; his kind words and light-hearted flirtations: these were the thoughts that kept her moving, even though her feet grew tired and her spirit weary.

She imagined their meeting in a thousand different variations. It would be midnight, the height of the moon, the stars shining above them. He would meet her on the slopes of Erebor, and they would kiss in the clear winter night, and all would be well from then on. His mother and brother would accept their love in time, and there would be no more pain in her life—not with Kíli by her side.

She passed the Misty Mountains in a flash, barely remembering any rock or patch of snow. She took the low roads, staying out of the worst of the winter weather, but the mountains slowed her pace considerably. She stopped to rest only begrudgingly, though she found herself in sore need of it.

When Tauriel finally crossed the mountains, she was exhausted, and she rested for a full day in the foothills. The next morning, she rose, firm in her purpose. The next step was to find her way through the forest.

When she had last journeyed through her forest, she had thought she would never see it again. Now she steeled herself to greet again. She hoped she did not run into any other elf—not even Legolas, though he had most likely left for the Dúnedain by now.

The forest was within her sight when she saw the figure off in the distance: solitary and small, trudgingly firmly toward the Misty Mountains.

She frowned. There were no mountain passes that way. If that person continued on their current course, they would perish in the winter snows and rough terrain.

Though her heart yearned to plunge into the forest and make haste to Erebor, she felt obligated to warn that traveler of the dangers ahead of them. She turned and sped toward them.

As she approached, she noticed something strange about the figure. They were not only short, but diminutive: a dwarf. But why would a dwarf be travelling _west_? All the dwarves in this area lived to the east, in Erebor, or were heading that way.

Tauriel had a sudden inkling of who the figure could be, but she brushed it off. No, Kíli was back in Erebor, according to Dís. It couldn't be him.

"Traveler!" she cried once she was in earshot.

The dwarf turned around, and though he was far away, Tauriel recognized him.

"Kíli," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. It _was_ him!

She broke into a run, crying out, "Kíli! Kíli!"

"Tauriel?" came the reply, puzzled but delighted. "Tauriel!"

He rushed toward her, and they met in the middle. She picked him up in her arms, whirling him around. (He was heavier than she expected; bulky in a dwarvish manner, strong as a mountain.) She felt his hair brush against her face, thin and ragged curls, a mane matted by travel, but still feeling oh so comforting.

They were both sobbing, too emotional to speak. When Kíli's feet touched the ground again, he stared up at her with all the stars shining in his eyes.

She kissed him, and it didn't matter that it wasn't under the moon and the stars. Her favorite time of day was now morning, simply because he was in this morning with her.

When their lips parted, she still held him close, feeling his heart beat. She was leaning down, and he was standing on his tiptoes, but neither of them wished to move.

"I thought you were dead," she whispered, her voice thick with tears.

"Shh," Kíli hushed. "It's alright now. I'm here."

"I found your mother in the west," she said. "She was not very happy to see me."

"I'll talk to her," he promised. "Fíli didn't want me to come looking for you—he kept me in Erebor as long as he could, but I couldn't just leave you, I _couldn't_ —"

"It'll be okay," she murmured. "Now that we're together again."

Kíli laughed softly. "Tauriel...your hair."

She laughed. "Oh. That. It's—a mark of grief. In...your memory."

"As the one memorialized," Kíli said, "I have to say...I like it."

They stood there for a long time, holding each other.

"We should go somewhere else, instead of just standing here in the open," Kíli said. "Perhaps—back in the forest...?"

Tauriel nodded. "Yes. It is the fastest way to Erebor."

"You're coming back to Erebor with me?" Kíli asked, surprised.

"Well—it is your home," Tauriel said. "Your uncle died to reclaim it. Don't you want to go back?"

"Yes," Kíli said, "but I thought—do you really want to live with dwarves? I could...get used to elves and trees, if you wanted me too."

"And I can get used to dwarves and halls of stone," she teased. "You have responsibilities in Erebor, _meleth nîn_. I have none in my home, not any longer. I have been released from the king's service."

"Well, King Fíli definitely wants me back," Kíli said. "Let's go there first, at least."

"We'll have to go through the forest first," Tauriel said. "I would be delighted to show you my home." She slipped out of his grasp, instead taking his hand.

"Legolas already did, a bit," Kíli said.

Tauriel stared at him. "Legolas?"

"I ran into him in the forest," he explained. "He helped me get through."

Tauriel laughed. "I thought he hated you."

"He loves you," Kíli said seriously. "He wants you to be happy—so helped me."

Tauriel sighed. "I miss him. He is like a brother to me."

"He'll be back," Kíli said confidently. "He misses you, too." He squeezed her hand as they walked toward the forest. "And I missed you. I went mad, being cooped up in a bed while I healed. I just wanted to go after you!"

"I almost lost you," Tauriel said, beginning to cry again. "Never do that again." In her free hand, she drew the runestone out of her pocket. "Here. I've kept my promise. Now you keep yours."

Kíli took the stone, smiling. "I will, until the end of my days," he vowed.

Tauriel smiled. She knew he would.


End file.
